A Renaissance
by LennonLime
Summary: This was written completely on a whim, in the middle of english class. It's set being post-Angels and Demons, with pretending neither of the other 2 RL books exist. Read, comment, rate, criticize, I love hearing from people.
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

"Kaaaaat,"

I stirred in my bed. _Five more minutes._

"Oh Kiiiiiiit-Kaaaat!"

I open my eyes just a little, so I'm half squinting, half glaring at whom ever it was who dared to disturb my slumber on this glorious Boston morning.

Black hair is the first thing that comes into focus through the morning fog in my eyes. Next the barely-there grey streaks running through it make themselves known to me. Then a soft face with blue eyes and an impish grin.

_Ugh. My father._

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said in an almost sing-song voice.

"Morning," I grumblemumble in response. "I'm up, now vamoose."

I sit up and rub my eyes. A glance at the Minnie Mouse clock on my bedside table informs me it's 7:20am…On a Saturday. I turn to glare at my obviously time-confused father, but become distracted by his outfit. "Dad,…Harris on a Saturday? Seriously?" I ask, referring to his Harris tweed jacket. "Wait…Why are you dressed like you're going to class?"

He grinned his impish grin at me even wider. I was expecting him to be in his usual weekend garb, jeans and a polo.

"Well, here's a hint," he grinned. "It's not because _I_ have a class today."

I stare at him, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. He returns my stare with more grinning. For a second I think about how often I forget how handsome my father is. _I wish the rest of Boston (and, recently, the world) would forget. _But no, Boston Magazine is forever asking for an interview with "the Sexiest Professor at Harvard."

I snap back to the present and put my mind to trying to figure out what the hell is with his outfit.

"Seriously. What's the occasion, Professor Dad?"

He grins at me, looking more guilty by the second. The impish grin is back.

"Hold on," I say, everything suddenly making sense. "I know that grin…NO. No, dad. Just no. I don't CARE what fantastic old fart is lecturing today. It's 7am, on a Saturday. NO."

His grin didn't falter. "C'mon, Kat," he said through his grin. "You'll enjoy this one, I promise!"

"…NO!" I say, as firmly as I can manage. "I'm SEVENTEEN. I don't LIKE lectures."

That did it. His grin slipped down into a childish pout. "You like MY lectures…" he sniffed.

"Well, yeah, but," I stammer. "But you're my DAD. You lecture about INTERESTING things."

"This girl is interesting, too," he claims.

I take the bait. "Girl…?"

"Yeah," he says, feigning extreme sadness and putting on his best hurt puppy look, staring at my floor. "But if you don't wanna go, I understand." He shoots a sideways and heartbreakingly sad glance at me.

_Ughhhhhhhh, why does he get away with everything when he does that look?_ It was the same look that got me to the charity auction for Harvard's law department. I remember the sight of countless women in too-low-cut dresses flirting with my dad and hold back a shudder.

"Fiiiiiiiiiine," I sigh, giving in to his world-famous charisma and charm. "I'll go….So long as you leave the hurt puppy look here."

"Yes!" he says, obviously pleased with his accomplishment of stealing my Saturday.

I hop out of bed and start brushing my long caramel brown hair.

"So, tell me," I say, looking at my dad in the mirror. "Who's lecture are we attending today, Professor Langdon?"


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

The early October sky over Boston is a beautiful cloudless blue. Red and brown leaves from the maple trees around campus swirl and dance around in the crisp wind. Despite the chilly temperature, the campus of Harvard is alive with activity.

A few students playing ultimate Frisbee in a patch of grass near by lose their Frisbee to a sudden gust of wind. The little blue discus skids to a halt on the path in front of my dad.

As he bends to pick it up, one of the players calls, "HEY, IT'S THE DOLPHIN!"

The other college kids shout their hellos, calling my dad by almost every one of his campus nicknames, The dolphin, Rob, Professor L, Mr. Langdon…And even one kid with dreads called him "Pro Langdon."

He scoops up the Frisbee and sends it flying back to the clan of players, they shout their thanks and continue playing.

"Uhm," I stammer "Did that kid just call you _Pro Langdon_?"

"Yeah," he replies with a chuckle. "He's, uh…He's an interesting kid."

"I can tell," I mutter. "So, seriously. What's this lecture lady all about?"

He smiles like a kid with a secret again, which makes me nervous.

"I swear," I say. "If she's all about math or some shit, I'm turning around right now and going home." I can't help but laugh a little, my dad looks so amused.

"Hmm," he muses. "I don't know if you're going to like it." He scratches at his chin like he has an actual beard instead of just a patch of black stubble.

"Daaaaaaad," I groan. I don't like the sounds of this.

"Well, Katty, you'll just have to TRY to like it." He grinned at me again.

"Just tell me!" I almost shout, frustrated with him, his secretiveness, and the fact that the stupid wind that's ripping across campus keeps messing up my hair.

"Jesus, Kat," he laughs. "Alright. Well, she knows a good bit about this little thing called the Renaissance…" he raised his eyebrow and smiled at me.

I stared back. The Renaissance. I understood the logic behind the insanity of waking me up this early on a Saturday.

The Renaissance was my LIFE. I became fascinated with it when I was in the 6th grade, the first time I saw a poster of Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa hanging in the art room. From that day, I started filling my head with everything I possibly could that had to do with the Renaissance, everything from da Vinci's scientific discoveries and researches to Raphael and Michelangelo's paintings and architecture.

"That's what I thought," my dad said, a smug smile on his face.

_I'm going to hear a lecture about the best era in human history. _

And suddenly, I was perfectly fine to be awake at such an early hour. It would be a lecture I'll never forget.


End file.
